My Greatest Talent
by Micah Debrink
Summary: Emiro, a talented young dewott, was once the glamorous star of a world-class pokemon talent show. Now he is in prison. What led him to this fate? And what does he learn from his experience? One-shot. Rated M for language and sexual content.


(Hey guys! It's been a while, I know. Hope you enjoy this one-shot. Pokemon and their trademarked characters and places don't belong to me.)

* * *

 _My Greatest Talent_

I don't belong in this shit-hole. I mean look at me. "You've got your whole life ahead you, so many dreams, so many great things and yeah. End up here." Only thing that leaves a worse taste in my mouth than the dirt and squalor of my surroundings is my stupidity, my brashness…the energy I stripped myself bare off, leaving me naked, cold, tired, vulnerable. Sleep already. Sleep already. Sleep already. The full moon's glaring light, shining through the small window stops me from leaving my body for awhile as one does in slumber. How did I get here? What did I do wrong? What am I doing here? Why me? Why does everything have to happen to me? How could I have been so stupid?

"Yeeargh!" I scream in the middle of the night.

Jail sucks.

That thought, I can settle with. I can leave it unquestioned. So with that I fall asleep.

* * *

Use your piercing red eyes. Go on! Lean forward, menacing stance…that's right. No, not too much, you don't wanna look too threatening. There. There, that's perfect.

"Your name, species."

"My name is Emiro. I am a Dewott. I wanna be the greatest performer here!"

No response. What is this? Silence. Look at the judges, look at the judges. That one over there. He's just smiling. Smiling. Well. Well you can't really tell what they're thinking if they're smiling if they're the kind of person I think the judge is. Yeah. That's it. Perfectly clear. C'mon.

"What kind of performer, Emiro? We have such a variety of talents showcased here. Battle skills, dances, acting…all areas where Pokémon can shine, show off their talents as independent contestants, without trainers." Canned response. Typical. Uggh.

"I…I don't know…!"

"Show us something. What…can you do?"

"I can do…this!"

* * *

"Get up, you little bitch! Morning time!" the guard shouts through the cell door for the umpteenth time, stopping my four-hour escape from reality. I was just about to perform my act…and then concrete ceiling. Heavy concrete ceiling, my eyes see. Cracking, buckling at the seams. It's almost ready to just come crashing down on me, its fifteen ton weight.

"What did I just say!?" Sound funnels into my ear again. "No daydreaming! Get the fuck up!" Shit. Better get up now.

I think if the building inspector came through this place, he'd give it an "F". F for…never mind. Yeah, beside the point. Oh, what the hell. I'll say it. F for "flooded". What? You didn't think it meant that? Something else? Like what? A dirty mind, you have!

My cell's on the ground floor. Water seeps through the cracks, enough to make puddles out of the dents in the concrete floor. With the full moon's beaming light, I can see my reflection, staring back at me curiously.

Fresh cuts and bruises on my blue coat are normal, either from the work imposed by guards on the prisoners…or the abuses imposed by either one. The latter was bigger trouble today. The Pokémon here like to make fun of me just 'cause I was a dancer. An artist of the scalchop. I let 'em laugh at me for a while. When do jokes turn into heckling?

"Y'know," I finally said, "I'm pretty damn happy about being a dancer, you've no right to call me a faggot!"

Enemies for life. Because prison is life.

And life is a piece of shit.

I step on one of the puddles, and the reflection garbles up into lots of broken bits. It looks like a more accurate depiction of me, as far as I'm concerned.

These thoughts, I can settle with. I can leave it unquestioned. So with that I fall asleep.

* * *

"…am…I bothering you?"

Oh, Arceus. Who let this rabid fan get into my changing room. Wait…it's not a fan. It's…

"Hey, Lyra."

"What's up, Em? I loved the scalchop dance you did…amazing! You're by far the greatest talent in the theater."

"Am…am I?"

"Yes you are!"

"You're just…you're just saying that, Lyra."

"No really, Emiro. Think about it…you know, what am I, compared to you? Lyra, a lonely little snivy that ran away from her trainer. What can I do really?"

"Your singing was quite nice."

"Oh, that little piece of shit I croaked out? Heh, I guess it was 'cute'."

"Don't say that, Lyra! It's not good to speak about yourself in a bad light. You don't realize how it can hurt others around you too."

"Look, Emiro. You're a nice dewott. You really are. But the curse is that the nice ones can't relate to others around them. 'Be nice to everyone around you', that's what you're saying. You think my trainer cared? He didn't give a shit, that's why I ran away. Now the whole damn world rejoices 'cause I'm finally out of that son a bitch's life."

"Well, really! I'm…I'm sure he at least cared for you somewhat...to raise you, care for you—"

"Hah! 'Care for you', Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes says. I don't know the meaning of that."

"C'mon, Lyra, what did he do that so bad for you? What did he do?"

"Where I grew up, from egg to snivy, was a place…where…drugs…is an acceptable form of reward…and…rape…an acceptable form of…punishment. Satisfied!? Now stay the fuck out of my damn business, capisce?"

She's crying. What…how'd I even get her to this point! Oh, Arceus, don't cry on me, Lyra. Don't. What should I say? I know.

"Then why are you here, Lyra?"

Silence. What's that look on her face? Discomfort? She's biting her lip. What does she want to say? She's pacing about. Where does she want to go? Her tiny hands are fidgeting. What does want to do?

"Em, dear...why don't you come and have a drink with me at the bar?"

"Lyra, you know they won't let in pokémon at the bar."

"Don't worry. I know a place where they'll…accommodate us. So, are you game? Hmm? To…comfort…a friend?"

"To comfort a friend. Let's go."

* * *

"Wake up already! I swear sometimes you're like a Slaking!" A swift kick to the rear breaks the dream.

More puddles have appeared in the cell from the rainstorm last night. I try to bend over the water, examine the reflection, but the furious prison guard tramples on it, leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

"Get your ass out here! Now!"

Soil on the guard's shoes mixes with the water in the puddle. It wasn't worth staying behind anymore. It wasn't worth it anymore to gaze at the reflection, stained by grit, filth, concrete particles.

The morning meal tastes not too dissimilar to that. My inmates gratefully sopped up every last drop of the gruel; I could never gain the composure too. For every bite I took, 99 parts of 100 was spit out back on the plate. Cold, bland, gristly. Sounds just like the stale gray concrete walls that confine me.

That thought, I can settle with. It can be left unquestioned. So I can lose myself in the daily grind.

* * *

"Look, Lyra, I'm not too sure about—"

"Unh unh! Don't you dare back out on me right now? Is…is that the way to treat a lady?"

"I mean, this alley doesn't look the safest…it's dark, cold…there're ratata scurrying everywhere!"

"Don't be a pussy! C'mon, we're almost there."

It was kind of dim, but I could follow her silhouette. It was a bar, but there wasn't anyone inside. There was this harsh reddish light all around. There was round furniture everywhere. I know that sounds strange, but that's what it was, really. The bed was round, the sofa was round, the shelves were round. You could lie in any position on the bed, and it would feel exactly the same. You could crawl around the perimeter of the soft mattress, and end up back at the same place you started. It was making me dizzy. And I hadn't even had a drink yet.

"Get _up_ , Em!" I was surprised she scolded me, and quietly whimpered back by her side. "We're not ready for that yet, are we?" The smile returned.

She was making something at the bar. "What's the specialty?" I asked so naively. Of course I knew. But that's the thing. Once you know, you never think that there was a time that you _didn't_ know.

She smiled.

Everything blossomed. Life felt so much dangerous without her scales pressing against mine on the hard floor. Her big round eyes were half-closed as leaned in towards me, but I could still imagine their adorably large size behind her eyelids. It took time, but it was wonderful. Every minute was wonderful. The end…was wonderful. We lay together for a while after the end.

I hadn't even taken the time to go to the bed. We were lying on the concrete floor, which should have been cold but it wasn't. It was hot. Almost burning me. Or was it me? It was me that was hot. Arceus, I was burning my own self to the ground! What was I thinking? Why didn't I realize it then?

I whimpered subconsciously when she separated herself from me. "Let me…fix you something to drink." I didn't even look at what she was mixing or pouring or shaking. I was too caught in my own feelings. But we were together. My pleasures are our pleasures. But alas no, why did I think so selflessly! No matter how hard I tried, I could never feel her. Just touch her, kiss her, fuck her. It was just me that I felt when I was with her. That rush of euphoria, the desire to stay with her for a lifetime everlasting…all me.

She passed a glass to me with a dark brown liquid in it.

"Thanks." I drank.

Do you know what happened next? The drink happened. It felt like I had collapsed to the ground, but that was impossible since I was lying on the ground to begin with. And then I knew for sure that I wasn't feeling her. It was all me. All in my head. I wasn't even budging, and I felt like I'd been to the moon and back.

"What…Lyra!? What…"

"My signature drink. Nothing more, nothing less." She was so calm as she spoke. She open her mouth to show her fangs, and that's when I saw it. It was the first of the ugliness I saw. The decay of her mouth, ridden with blisters and cancer. A foul mouth, she had.

"Lyra…but why? You looked so…I thought…you looked so changed. Are you this monster? Is it you? Arceus, the pain!"

"Look at your reflection sometime, Em. Do it every day. You'll learn a lot about yourself."

What is it? What is she holding? Why is so blurry? So raggedy in shape? Why is all my sight so morphed beyond any sane perception? Everything became blurry as I melted to the ground like a puddle of water. The beautiful form I had accompanied turned dark, scarred, and blemished. Lyra was ugly, and Lyra was uglier as the drugs formed a thicker haze. Lyra was still there, that I could tell. Standing there, motionless. You could swear she was staring back, intently. Maybe everyone sees it all blurry. All their visions of beautiful models, masterful dancers…are the product of distortion, so skillfully hidden with pounds of cosmetics that anyone could be fooled by their manufactured beauty. They are the insane ones.

And my vision is perfect.

I wasn't surprised when the police came. They were here for Lyra, and her loyal accomplices. First was Lyra. I was smiling the whole time they cuffed me and carried me off. Like they knew. They knew it wasn't me. They knew it was never me. They knew it could never be me, screwing around on that stage. It was all a dream. The most hilarious dream I had ever had. I'm way too good for that. I'm way too pretty for that. I'm way too beautiful to be under the limelight. The kindest of hearts are often encased in a shell of cold steel bars and concrete walls.

* * *

Bright moonlight wakes me up this time. I make sure none of the prison guards are looking…and slip away.

I swim across the moat, legs furiously paddling in the water. My reflection breaks up in the splashing water, but that's okay. That's okay.

* * *

END

* * *

(Thanks for reading this one-shot! Please comment on your thoughts!)


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